Reunion

By Dean Steadman

The police questioning stretched on through the night. I wasn’t a key witness. I had been in the washroom and only heard the shots. Hear them still.

I left the restaurant alone and stood shivering on the sidewalk while the EMTs loaded the dead into vans. The wounded had already been ambulanced away, my dinner companions among them.

Years later, we decided to go for brunch at the same location. It was now a café with a sidewalk patio, wheelchair friendly. We could have eaten at the hotel, but this place was popular and only three blocks east into old town.